


Libera Me

by Arlome



Series: Luciferian Tales [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, Lucifer talks about the past, Religion, Sort Of, There's some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:03:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlome/pseuds/Arlome
Summary: Lucifer tells Ella of his best experience with the Roman Catholic Church. Set at the end of 2X08





	Libera Me

**Author's Note:**

> The first part of a collection of one-shots called 'Luciferian Tales', where Lucifer basically reminisces about the past to his clueless friends.

They leave the church together with the rest of the congregation, shuffling their feet on the way out. The crowd at the door is trickling into the street as slowly as a sluggishly oozing cut, but the conversation around them is pleasant and lacking the telltale pressure and annoyance of a large body of people trying to leave a place all at once.

Must be all the bloody praying, Lucifer thinks.

“Well, that wasn’t so bad, now, was it?” says a voice from somewhere near his left elbow. He glances down at the tiny Forensic Scientist; she’s wearing a bright smile, and her countenance is cheery enough, but he can tell from the slight tremor in her voice that she is, in fact, somewhat nervous. As if the success of this ridiculous outing is important to her.

“A deal’s a deal, my dear Miss Lopez,” he says, avoiding the tricky question, “’Ask and you shall receive’, as they say.”

She quirks her eyebrow at him, and her lips twist into a line. She’s clearly not buying what he’s trying to sell.

“Fine, fine,” he says, yielding; Ella smiles triumphantly, “this was surely one of my better experiences with the Roman Catholic Church.”

He’s not lying, of course; no, it’s always the truth with him. The priest at the service tonight was talking of kindness and acceptance and loving thy neighbour, and all the rest of the poppycock that the simple-minded gobble up. Not a word of him, none of temptation and sin, or of eternal damnation. This could hardly have gone any better, actually.

They finally get to the door, and fresh air washes over his face like a balm, when he feels Ella’s hand on his arm; he steps outside and pulls her out of people’s way.

“You said this was one of the better experiences,” she says, somewhat hesitatingly, “I was just wandering – and don’t feel obliged to answer it, Dude; I mean, you’re pretty touchy when it comes to the Big Guy – but, if you don’t mind my asking, what was the best experience?” 

A pretty young woman in a floral dress passes them by and smiles enticingly at Lucifer. He winks at her, and she giggles, biting her lower lip playfully. He takes a step forward, leaving the bouncy Forensic Scientist behind, gaping in surprise.

“Hello, Darling,” he purrs at the dress-clad young woman, “come here often?”

“Every Sunday,” she breathes, her lower lip back between her teeth, “sometimes during the week, for confession.”

“Hmm,” he smiles seductively and takes a card out of his pocket, “well, right now I’m here with a friend, so I’m busy, I’m afraid; but do come and find me at Lux, if you ever wish to have something really worth confessing about.”

The woman sways gently on her feet, and he reaches a hand out to steady her. She gasps rather audibly, much to his delight.

“H-how will I find you?” she asks, her eyes clouded, “I really, _really_ wouldn’t want to miss you.”

Lucifer’s eyes caress her pretty pink cheeks and her moist lips languidly. 

“What’s your name, Darling?” he asks, his voice suddenly deeper and darker.

“Jenny…” she breathes and shivers, even though the air is quite warm and there’s no breeze.

“Well, Jenny, I own the place, and I’m very _hard_ to miss,” he smiles and squeezes her arm gently, “just ask for the Devil, yes?”

The young woman makes a half-hearted attempt at crossing herself, but keeps the card and stuffs it into her cleavage, much to Lucifer’s amusement. 

Ella is still gaping when he makes his way back to her.

“Dude!” she exclaims loudly, scaring a pair of old ladies coming up behind her half to death, “only you can pick up a girl in a church!”

“Got to keep up with the reputation, Miss Lopez,” he says, dismissingly, “’all in a day’s work’, and all that; now, you had a question, as I recall?”

He offers her his arm, which she seems to take gladly, and they head in the direction of his Corvette.

“Right, right!” Ella says enthusiastically, gesturing with her free hand, “I was asking about your best experience with the Roman Catholic Church?”

“Oh well,” Lucifer chuckles, patting Ella’s fingers at the crook of his elbow affectionately, already miles down memory lane, “’tis quite a wild story…you’re sure a nice, Catholic girl like yourself won’t mind hearing all its sordid little details?”

Ella’s eyes shine in the darkness with such mischievous fire that it impresses even Lucifer himself.

“Oh, man,” she chuckles and shakes her head, absolutely ready for what no doubt will turn out to be a great story, “now _this_ I gotta hear…”

Lucifer takes a dramatic, exaggerated breath for her benefit and wiggles his eyebrows playfully.

“Well, back in the ’40s of the 14th Century, I was spending my vacation on earth in a lovely little village just outside of Florence, Italy,” he begins conversationally. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies a huge grin spreading over his friend’s face, “there was diluted wine aplenty, merry minstrels about, enough pliant maidens to warm my bed, and, of course, the Plague. All in all, all the best things in life,” Lucifer winks, and Ella laughs loudly enough to disturb a young couple kissing on a bench nearby.

“Steady on, Miss Lopez,” Lucifer smiles smugly and pulls her towards his parked vehicle, encouraging her to lean against the hood of the Corvette once they reach it, “now, where was I?”

“The Plague, and other niceties of life,” Ella chuckles encouragingly, bumping his hip with her own.

“Right,” he acknowledges, nodding his head, and crosses his arms,” well, this little village I was frequenting was famous mostly for this small, secluded convent of about ten nuns, all relatively young and quite comely, who produced this delicious sacrificial wine in utter piousness. And what can I say, my lovely bouncy friend, I was intrigued,” he winks at her and Ella shakes her head, the smile on her face ridiculously infectious, “So, one day, I decided to go to the convent and offer my services.”

“Doing what?” Ella cries and pushes at his arm, “ruining their virtue?”

“Oi, don’t ruin the story!” Lucifer cries in dismay, but then he shrugs, and his eyes take on a wicked glint, ”that happened later. But as I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted,” he frowns in her direction, and Ella rolls her eyes in good humour, “I came to offer my services. As a gardener. Now, I’ll grant you, Hell doesn’t grow anything, but the convent had this lovely apple orchard, and, well…” he trails away, smiling almost seductively. Ella clears her throat. 

“Right,” she says, her tone just a little on the breathless side,” the Devil and his apples.”

“Precisely,” Lucifer agrees, winking at her, “so I told them I was a young man looking for employment, and it turns out they were in need of, well, me. I ended up staying for a few weeks, servicing the convent. The orchard bloomed, by the way.”

“And so did the nuns, I bet,” Ella laughs almost nervously and bumps his hip again.

“Oh, yes,” he chuckles darkly, “no virgin left among the sisters, I’m afraid. The Mother Superior was a particularly wild cat, as I recall; kept me in her room for days!”

“But wait a minute, “ Ella frowns and narrows her eyes at him, as if something important just dawned on her, “why does this story sound so familiar?”

Lucifer scoffs and shakes his head.

“I’ll tell you why,” he says in slight indignation, still feeling somewhat mistreated seven centuries later, “after the whole convent vacation, I ended up sharing a drink with this bloke in a tavern. Little did I know that the tale I told him in confidentiality would come out later in a book – completely wrong, by the way – and be commemorated for centuries to come! And no reference, or anything! Of course, he ended up downstairs, and I had quite the fun with him. There’s a whole section for plagiarists below deck, you know.”

“Wha – you’re talking about the Decameron!” Ella cries out suddenly, pointing at Lucifer in her excitement, “Giovanni Boccaccio is the tavern guy!”

The Devil leans back, regarding his friend with surprise and approval.

“Look at you, Miss Lopez,” he smiles gleefully, “knowing your classics.”

Ella shakes her head and smirks.

“Man, you _never_ break character, do you?”

Lucifer sighs in exasperation, but he does it quite halfheartedly and with some affection.

“Oh, Miss Lopez, whatever am I going to do with you?”

***

Jenny Collins is a good Catholic girl – always has been, really; she goes to Church regularly, prays devoutly, knows her Bible, and never, _ever,_ sleeps with strangers, even if she did meet them at Evening Service. She’s a good girl, with high morals, and even higher standards and expectations, but there is something about this one particular man, this self-proclaimed Devil, that has her keening like a wanton woman with her feet thrust up high in the air, as he drives himself into her with incredible precision and skill.

After that fateful service, she seeks him out, much to her own surprise. And he’s genuinely delighted to see her, whispering a sultry _‘hello, Jenny’_ in her ear. A few drinks and some seriously arousing dances, see them spilling out of his elevator and into his penthouse, entwined in each other and locked at the lips.

Much to the mortification of the sensible woman in her, who’s been stuffed into a tiny box at the back of her mind by ‘slightly buzzed Jenny’, she is spread out underneath this gorgeous man like a fancy Thanksgiving dinner. He’s even more good looking in the buff, all hard-lines and toned muscles; if she were a renaissance sculptor looking for a muse, she’d have found him between her rather flexible thighs. The way he moves, the way he employs his mouth and hands, is probably illegal in some states, and his body is so divine that Jenny seriously worries about the state of her immortal soul.

“Oh my God,” she chants as that familiar pinch in the pit of her stomach threatens to snap and send her flying head first into the abyss, “Oh my God, oh my God, _oh my G-ugh!”_

He laughs, one of those cavernous, guttural laughs, that resonates deep in her cervix. 

“That’s right, Darling,” he moans in that absolutely filthy, sinful way that sends her straight into ‘multiple orgasms’ territory, “invoke my father’s name; tell him exactly what his favourite son’s been up to!”

She has no idea what he’s talking about- this beautiful, charismatic, desirable man – but the voice he uses…that _voice,_ makes her writhe, and moan, and gasp for breath.

And afterwards, when she lies completely spent and satiated on his expensive silk sheets, being quite unable to move, he crawls up her body in such feline grace that makes Jenny shiver and sigh.

“There, my Darling, for your next confession” he breathes and licks her neck up to her ear with that unnaturally gifted tongue of his, “don’t forget to tell the priest that you had the Devil inside you.”

Jenny thinks it may be a bit too late for crossing herself now.


End file.
